


the easy way

by Ponderosa (ponderosa121)



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bodily Fluids, Canon Character of Color, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Older Man/Younger Man, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scent Marking, Sex Toys, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22668520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponderosa121/pseuds/Ponderosa
Summary: What a time for his suppressants to fail. It’s rare for something like this to happen, but most omegas aren’t on a cocktail of other medication to maintain a delicate balance of drug interactions. And they’re also probably not surrounded day after day by a group of alphas they admire while being dropped in the middle of high-stress situations. Most omegas have nice normal day jobs or kids to smother with attention.[For the kink meme prompt: Malcolm goes into an unexpected heat, locks himself away in his loft, and gets himself through it with toys and fantasies of Gil]
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 25
Kudos: 163
Collections: Prodigal Son Kink Meme





	the easy way

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thank yous to KateSamantha for putting eyes on this and helping me (again) figure out how endings work. For the prompt "Mal goes into an unexpected heat. He locks himself away in his loft and gets himself through it with toys and fantasies of Gil" on the kink meme." with a few bonuses for OP.

Malcolm’s on all fours in the middle of his bed with both his cunt and his ass crammed full when his phone buzzes on the nightstand. He glances over at it. Is mother calling _again_? She’d been the one who realized his irritability and distraction last night at dinner were the signs of an oncoming heat, and she’d already called to check on him twice today.

He can still hear her in his head: _“It’s unusual, darling, I’m just worried about you. Although I suppose you_ are _at peak breeding age.”_ And the way her tone had leapt up an octave at the word ‘peak’ as if he might use this opportunity to ditch his birth control and find some nice strong alpha to knot him and give her grand babies….

What a time for his suppressants to fail. It’s rare for something like this to happen, but most omegas aren’t on a cocktail of other medication to maintain a delicate balance of drug interactions. And they’re also probably not surrounded day after day by a group of alphas they admire while being dropped in the middle of high-stress situations. Most omegas have nice normal day jobs or kids to smother with attention.

The phone buzzes again. Fuck. He cranes his neck to see if it actually is her calling. It’s not, it’s worse. It’s Gil.

For a hot second, Malcolm debates whether or not to answer, but if he doesn’t Gil might worry just as much as his mother. He groans and stops working the toy into his cunt to crawl forward. A clean patch of bedding is sacrificed to the cause as he wipes his hand off before stretching out to catch the phone with his fingertips. There’s still enough lube and slickness on his hands that his fingers merely slip across the surface. With a nudge he flings the phone onto the bed with him and knuckles the button to answer. He manages to put it on speaker.

“This is Bright,” he says, doing his very best to sound normal.

“If you’re still lazing around in bed kid, get up. I’ve got a case for you.”

Malcolm shuts his eyes and presses his thighs tight as a warm wet trickle starts up in his cunt at the sound of Gil’s voice alone. “I can’t today,” he says weakly, even though the thought of missing out on a case is devastating and every fibre of his being says he should do whatever Gil wants him to. A fresh flush of warmth simmers under his skin and a groan rises up in his throat.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Gil asks, then after a beat, “Bright, are you okay?”

“I’m just a little under the weather. I have a, um, a migraine.” Malcolm winces at the lie. “If there’s anything you need me to look at, snap some photos and I’ll take a peek when I’m uh, vertical again.”

“Yeah, you got it. Migraine, huh? In that case cover up that big window of yours, stay in bed, and kid, promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” Gil says, and the concern in his voice stokes an entirely different sort of heat in Malcolm’s insides.

“Oh, I don’t think I have any other choice,” Malcolm says wryly, his hips moving fitfully, desperate to get back to the hard fucking. He chokes out a thank you to Gil and hangs up, letting that groan spill out of his throat the minute his phone goes dark.

He sinks down to his elbows, dropping his head and already imagining that the stretch in his cunt is Gil’s cock. God, that would be amazing. Those big, broad hands curling around him, spreading over his thighs and catching on his hips to pull him back and seat him further on Gil’s fat dick. 

It’s easy to picture the soft tickle of a beard against the slope of his neck, the weight and warmth of such a large alpha curling over him. The way he’d fit so perfectly around Malcolm’s body and better, the way he’d fit _inside_ him.

 _”How’s it feel, kid?”_ he’d say as Malcolm’s body took him to the hilt.

“Good, oh my god, Gil. So good.”

Malcolm flattens down against the mattress, aching for the feel of a body on top of him. He works his hips as he fucks himself on his favorite dildo. His dick drags against the sheets, and the plunge of the toy in his cunt makes the plug in his ass shift and rub inside him. He closes his mouth over the meat of his arm, and as the salt taste of his sweat hits his tongue he’s left wishing he had something to suck on too, to have every hole filled as his entire body craves what he can’t have.

If he’s lucky he’ll be able to get himself off and have an hour or so reprieve from the waves of needy lust wracking his frame.

With a groan, Malcolm rolls onto his back, his knees falling wide. It’s easier to fuck himself harder this way, both hands gripping the base of the toy to plunge it inside him in long strokes. He arches and tips his head back to show his throat and a shiver seizes his belly.

Fuck, is Gil a biter? Does he like to flirt with bonding when he takes an omega?

Malcolm gasps, a jolt like an electric shock going up his spine at the thought. He claws his nails down his neck, pretending it’s the scrape of Gil’s teeth on his skin, then closes his own fingers under his jaw to mimic Gil holding him by the throat.

 _“Come for me, Bright,”_ he’d snarl.

The echo of Gil’s voice in his mind tips Malcolm over the edge, and he whines piteously as his cock spits a weak dribble of come on his belly and his body clenches down hard over the toys stuffed into him. As the slam of pleasure fades, it blunts the needy edge of his heatlust and when Malcolm eases the dildo out of his cunt, he just lays starfished on the bed for a good fifteen minutes.

Heats are fucking exhausting.

He goes through the cycle twice more, the cravings coming back too strong to resist until he’s cramming himself full over and over. Every single time his fantasies come back to Gil. He didn’t have it this bad for Gil the last time he’d had to suffer through a heat alone, and he’s not sure if it’s better or worse being able to so clearly picture an alpha taking him—an alpha whose scent and mannerisms he knows so well.

Eventually Malcolm staggers out of bed, leaving the plug in his ass as he goes to the fridge and takes out a bottle of water. He stands naked in the middle of the kitchen as he drinks it down in long swallows.

Heatwet is still slipping down the inside of his thighs. The air filter on the wall hums as it works double-time to clean up the stink of pheromones his body keeps pumping out.

Malcolm wipes his forehead with the back of his wrist. He shakes out his hand; the muscles in his arms are going to be tired out before his holes are. Already the need is creeping back up. If he’d been smarter, he would’ve kept a fucking machine for emergencies like this.

He glances back at the bed. The blanket is trashed and completely disgusting, but at least it’s fluidproof. Most omegas at this point are happy to lay in their own come and heatslick, keep going until the entire room is rank with their smell...just waiting to nest.

Malcolm wrinkles his nose. He’s never exactly been a stereotypical omega. He has the looks, but the idea of getting back in that bed right now is far from appealing. Maybe he has enough time to put the blanket in the wash and take a shower. Or, he supposes, he could move into the shower entirely for the next wave. The toy that he’s been using all morning is his favorite, but he does have one that’ll suction to the wall and give his wrists a break.

Malcolm finishes the last of the water and drops the bottle in the sink, going back into the fridge for a handful of baby carrots. He bites one in two and slides the remaining half through the bars of Sunshine’s cage. She hops off her perch to give it a squawk and a nibble.

“Sorry, sweetie, no recess today. I’ll make it up to you in a few days.”

“Gil!” she squawks between bites of carrot.

Great. He’s been trying to teach her to say ‘love you’ for three months and all it takes is one day of being horny out of his mind in a heat for her to learn Gil’s name. With the other words in her vocabulary coming straight from his night terrors, maybe his mother is right and a parakeet is a terrible choice for a pet. He can’t imagine having to take care of something free-roaming though. Maybe he ought to try keeping fish. Or snakes again. Non-venomous this time.

He crunches through the snack as he wads up his bedding and takes it upstairs to throw it all in the wash. The insistent slip of wetness between his legs picks up again as he jogs back down the steps, and he digs around in his toy chest for something to take into the shower with him.

“Bigger than I remembered,” he says, holding the suction-base dildo in both hands. Although size certainly won’t be a problem, not right now. He’s well-stretched enough he could probably take a fully engorged knot. A delightful shiver ripples through him, and Sunshine squawks an obscenity as he disappears into the bathroom.

The shower turns out to be a great idea. He keeps the water just this side of warm, letting the coolness rain down over him and slip across his skin. It leaves all the heat focused between his legs where it belongs. Malcolm braces his hands against the wall opposite to push himself back onto the fat length of the dildo. It wedges into him slowly, stretching him until he feels full again. It’s perfect.

He moans and the sound bounces off the tile, reverberating back at him. Somehow, hearing the echo of his own voice thick with need is like a license to let go, and Malcolm stops stifling each hungry sound that makes its way to his lips. Water trickles into his mouth, sweet as candy, drips down his body to mingle with the thicker wetness dripping from his cunt.

 _“You like fat cocks, Bright?”_ he can picture Gil saying. His fantasies have gotten progressively nastier over the day as his desire to get dominated by an alpha has grown more intense. _“You want this one? You want my knot in your juicy little hole?”_

“Gil, fuck—” Malcolm groans. He slides too far forward and the dildo pops out of him. Frantically, he reaches down between his legs to catch the tip and aim it up again. It’s warmed from the feverish heat of his body, slippery and hot and almost too-real under his fingertips. “I need it Gil. God, please.”

He’s fucking himself back onto it with Gil’s name on his lips again when there’s a sound and he feels a sudden stir of air in the room—not the steady cycling from the fan in the ceiling, but a fresh cool breeze that carries a scent he knows very, very well.

“Oh fuck.”

“Shit!” Gil slams the door, and there’s a thump against it like Gil’s just flattened his back against the wood.

The sudden blaze of heat in Malcolm’s face matches the sizzling rush between his legs. He whimpers, mortified and horribly turned on in turns. That brief taste of Gil’s slightly sweet, slightly musky scent lingers on his tongue.

“Bright, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I came by to see if you were okay when I heard someone—”

“You need to go,” Malcolm grinds out although it pains him to say it.

“—it was just your damn bird—”

Of course. Malcolm almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation. _Help_ and _stop_ were the first words Sunshine had learned to mimic.

“—realized the shower was going, but you sounded hurt—”

This is so fucking embarassing and it’s not Gil’s fault. He was just being nice. Looking out for him. Being _protective._ Malcolm pants heavily. He bites his lip hard as his cunt tightens eagerly around the toy. There’s an alpha right fucking there. _His_ alpha. “Gil, please. You— You need to go. Right now.”

There’s the sound of Gil peeling away from the door and Malcolm strains to hear if he’s really left—if he’s walked away or if he’s still hanging around scenting the air for Malcolm’s heat. The shower will have helped, the sheets are in the wash, and with the air purifier going maybe anything that’s leaked out to ride the breeze will be faint enough to only be a distraction.

Not that he’d mind if Gil were overwhelmed enough to yank the door open and stride in and push him to the floor to mount him straightaway.

Malcolm grits his teeth and whines. He wants it so badly. Needs it down to his very core. He fucks back against the toy again, trying to stave off the drive that says he ought to open the door himself and invite such a powerful alpha in. To let Gil _claim_ him.

After all, Gil isn’t the sort of alpha Malcolm needs to avoid being caught by. He’s not going to rut and run. He’s already proven himself to be a worthy mate: faithful and loving and _dedicated_.

“Gil, if you’re still there, please tell me that you’re leaving. You need to go before one of us does something they regret.”

He says it, but he’d never regret it. A part of him worries though that Gil might. Even though sometimes when they’re working together it seems like Gil would be willing to claim him. The way Gil touches him so freely on the job reads a lot like subtle signalling to every alpha around that Malcolm in some way belongs to him.... The silence stretches and Malcolm wrestles with a mix of relief and regret. The possibility that he’s alone again vanishes when a shadow shifts at the bottom of the door: Gil’s still prowling restlessly out there.

“Kid, I can’t leave you like this—” he says, voice muffled, and every single syllable triggers a cascade of sensation in Malcolm’s body.

Fuck.

With his knees going weak, Malcolm lays his forehead against the arm he holds braced to the wall in front of him. His brows pull together and he tries not to search for Gil’s scent on every breath. “Gil, please. If you don’t go, you know what’s going to happen. I can barely control myself right now,” he says, and adds under his breath, “especially around you.”

In fact, he’s already pushing himself upright and letting the dildo slide out of him, his entire body electric with the possibility of having an alpha penetrate him properly. He switches off the spray and staggers out of the shower, dragging a towel off the hook and catching sight of his own reflection briefly as he moves it in a cursory pass down his chest.

Darkened by the water, his hair is slicked to his skull while the pink blush of his heat stains his cheeks and his chest. There are still scratches on his throat and collarbone from earlier, an angry red on the pale of his skin, and his nipples are tight and peaked. He’s hard again—mostly—he’s come too many times now for his dick to stand stiffly upright, but it’s thick and telegraphing his arousal.

Now that the water isn’t washing his heatscent away immediately it thickens in the air, surrounding him with a swirling cocoon of pheromones. Gil will want him like this. Will want to rut him and knot him and fill him to bursting with come. 

The towel slides out of his grip, falling forgotten to the floor as he reaches for the door handle. His logical mind is telling him to get back into the shower, to turn the tap to full blast and ride this out the way he’d planned. There’d be no risk if he did that, no chance of getting pregnant and no shift in his relationship with Gil. His hindbrain though….

Malcolm tracks the shadow on the other side of the door that marks Gil’s pacing, feels that same edgy restlessness echoed in the chemicals rushing through his veins. He worries the point of a tooth with the tip of his tongue and a rush of wetness drips out of his cunt as he puts his hand to the latch. He could still turn the lock, there’s still an out.

“Gil, I think I’m going to open this door,” he says. His breath comes fast and quick now—his pulse a drumbeat driving him on. If Gil doesn’t want this, as an older alpha he likely has a good amount of control. He could probably still leave if he really wants.

Does he want this just as badly? He’d barely gotten a whiff of Malcolm’s heat. It couldn't have been enough to send him into a frenzy.

There’s a slam against the wood—Gil’s palm smacking down—and Malcolm jumps. “Good, because Bright, if you don’t, I will. I’m here for you. I’ve _always_ been here for you. Let me help you get through this the easy way.”

Well, that answers that.

Malcolm opens the door.

Gil’s definitely in control of himself because he doesn’t grab at Malcolm immediately, teeth bared and snarling to dominate. He’s got his hands slung in his coat pockets. His pupils are blown wide to leave only the slightest sliver of deep brown around them and his gaze moves casually down Malcolm’s body. He looks almost apologetic as he says: “If I knot you, you won’t have to suffer as much.”

Malcolm hears the logic in what he’s saying, and maybe he’d read it all wrong and Gil’s willingness is just because he needs Malcolm thinking clearly for that case and not fucking himself stupid for a week in a heat-craze. Or maybe Gil’s just finally showing his cards as a smugly patronizing older alpha who thinks his knot can solve everything. What does it matter though why Gil’s prepared to knot him, because the alpha’s smell is overwhelming right now: warm and rich with a sweet undertone. That same familiar scent that saturates the leather of his jacket and the inside of his car and always threatens to get Malcolm wet even when his suppressants are working just fine.

Right now he’s already very, very wet, and as his lungs fill with that heady scent straight from the source, Malcolm’s cunt quivers, slickness running freely down the insides of his legs again.

“Great. That sounds great,” he says, folding his hands in the front of Gil’s coat, like he’s preparing to crawl right into it. He practically does, hitching his knee up to rub himself against Gil’s thigh. All the sensible thoughts in his head quickly abandon him, his own control stripping away in layers until all he really cares about is how little there is to prevent him from touching Gil skin to skin. How good it would feel to have Gil’s hands bearing him down to the floor.

“What happened to your sheets?” Gil asks, tossing a glance towards Malcolm’s bed even as he’s putting a hand on Malcolm’s neck to give it a squeeze.

“Forget the bed,” Malcolm says, his eyes going heavy-lidded. He sways on his feet, knees weak all over again as Gil’s thumb strokes across his jugular and flirts near the cluster of bonding nerves. “You can do me right here.”

“My knees on this hardwood? In your dreams, kid. You should’ve installed some carpet in this place,” Gil tells him, and with a gentle but forceful push aims Malcolm towards the bed. “Get over there. You’re just going to need to buy a new mattress.”

Malcolm staggers giddily towards where he’s been told to go, but spins around to walk backwards for a few steps. For an omega he’s never been great at just doing as told. “What about the couch? That’s leather.”

And if they rut there, it’ll smell like Gil for _weeks_. He’ll be able to lay on it later when he’s not heat-crazed and edge himself for hours with that scent filtering up beneath him.

“Fine, couch,” Gil says, and he disappears for a second to grab the towel up off the bathroom floor. He wads it up and throws it to Malcolm, and strips out of his coat as he follows across the loft.

He’s got predator written all over his body language, gaze jumping ahead to anticipate which side of the couch Malcolm will choose to skirt around. Malcolm’s instincts are at war: one part of his lizard brain telling him to run until he’s caught and the rest telling him to drop to his knees and beg to be mounted.

Gil flings his coat over the kitchen island and says, “Over the back,” as he peels off his turtleneck. He tosses that aside too and shakes his hair back into place as he goes for his belt. Age and a desk job has made him a little thicker in the middle, but he’s still pure muscle beneath, and Malcolm’s mouth floods as wet as his cunt.

“Not face to face?”

“Not to start.”

 _To start_. Malcolm chokes and barely manages to throw the towel over the leather before he’s flinging himself over the back and going up on his toes, tipping his hips to flash the pink of his cunt at Gil.

“Look at that,” Gil says appreciatively, before the sound of his shoes being kicked aside rattles through the room. He breathes in deeply, and his belt lands on the cushions where Malcolm’s hands are spread wide. “You’re more than ready for this aren’t you?”

“I’ve been waiting for this for almost twenty years,” Malcolm admits, his legs trembling he’s so fucking ready. Maybe it’s the wrong thing to say because Gil doesn’t reply, and a nervous flutter fights through the throbbing _want_ that lives in Malcolm’s belly.

“Please, Gil,” he begs, the words familiar on his lips now. He can’t lift his hips any higher, can’t do anything but let a needy whine build in his chest as Gil watches the heatslick drip out of him.

When Gil’s hand curves over his ass, he jerks, toes flexing against the floor and the muscles in his legs straining to find a way to push harder into the touch. Malcolm cranes his neck to look back and try to catch a glimpse out of his peripheral of Gil’s cock. He fails, but catches the hungry twist at Gil’s mouth before long fingers gather up his slickness and push into his cunt.

Malcolm clenches around the push of Gil’s fingers and while they’re still buried in him, he feels the nudge of Gil’s cock beside them. The flare of the crown sinks into him, stretching him so wide it’s almost like he’s knotted already.

“Oh god, oh f-fuck. You feel better than I imagined,” Malcolm says, the words tumbling out of him. The thrill of being mounted making his voice rise into a higher register before words fail him entirely and he’s left keening as Gil sinks deeper into him.

“I could say the same thing,” Gil says, his voice deepening with lust. His fingers slide out, letting Malcolm clench around the width of his cock, to try and seize it with his inner muscles and pull it deeper.

But Gil doesn’t thrust in despite the invitation, and though his palms settle on Malcolm’s sides, it’s not to urge him back but to hold him in place. Malcolm’s breath leaks out of him and as good as it feels to be pinned under Gil’s strong hands, he needs that cock filling him up. He bares his teeth, a faint snarl rippling in his throat. “Gil, please, c’mon.”

“You are on birth control, right? If you need me to use a condom, I’ve got one.”

For fuck’s sake. He could kill Gil if he didn’t want to get knotted so badly.

“Despite my mother’s many objections. I’m a little too unstable for kids, don’t you think?”

Gil’s touch softens and sweeps up the length of Malcolm’s back. Sparks follow the stuttering slide of his palms as they stroke over Malcolm’s still-damp shoulders, down his arms and back again. The heat sizzling under his skin blossoms wherever Gil touches him, until he’s feverish again. Wanton and aching. Greedy for more.

“Malcolm, what I think— What I honestly think is that you underestimate yourself,” Gil says, and the tenderness in his tone hardly registers because he’s resuming his push, filling Malcolm up, stretching him perfectly. 

Malcolm’s hands claw against the tufted leather of the couch and he bucks against the heavy weight seated inside him. There’s a surge in his blood, that same lustful need that’s been driving him to fuck himself all day. “Oh god, Gil. Fuck me hard, I’m begging you.”

“Doesn’t seem much like begging. Seems like an order,” Gil says, having the gall to sound amused while Malcolm is squirming and burning beneath him.

Goddamn older alpha bullshit—nose not as keen anymore, drive to mate not as overwhelming. Can’t he tell how badly Malcolm needs this right now? How the fever is eating him alive one cell at a time? “Gil, I swear, I’ll do anything. I’ll be good. I’ll call for backup at even the slightest risk of danger,” Malcolm says, ready to promise anything if only Gil would _move_.

“Yeah?”

Gil curls over him now, that warm, wonderful weight pressing against the length of his back, driving his hip bones into the back of the couch. There’s the soft brush of whiskers across the nape of his neck, Gil’s nose nuzzling into the edge of his hair. The teasing grind of Gil’s hips move in a slow, maddening circle, letting Malcolm know just how thick he is but not providing any real relief.

“Sounds good, but what makes you think I’m going to start believing that now?” Gil asks, punctuating the last word with a shallow thrust.

Malcolm whines and clenches desperately, his entire body taut and waiting. “Because I’ll be yours after this, entirely yours.”

The whisper of Gil’s breathy laugh raises gooseflesh on Malcolm’s skin, a patch of ice where the rest of him is molten. But the answer seems to satisfy, stroking Gil’s alpha ego and appealing to his possessive streak at the same time. Teeth scrape across the bump of vertebrae at the top of Malcolm’s spine, moving towards the slope of his neck to press gently against the hard bundle of nerves there.

If Malcolm were to bond with anyone….

He tips his head to the side to invite the bite. Delirious at the potential alone.

“Do it,” he rasps out between ragged breaths. “I’ve always wanted you to.”

“Kid, your mother would eviscerate me,” Gil replies. His mouth moves restlessly over the spot, sometimes with teeth and sometimes just a wide pass of soft tongue. For a brief moment as the press of Gil’s canines indent into his skin, Malcolm thinks Gil might throw reason out the window and actually do it. He doesn’t. His lips seal to Malcolm’s neck instead and he sucks hard enough that a dull throbbing pleasure like nothing Malcolm’s ever known engulfs him.

His eyes flare wide, breath driven out of him by the sudden slap of Gil’s hips meeting his ass. He thrashes as Gil licks the bruise—a visible, claming mark—blossoming on his neck and starts to fuck him. Starts to _really_ fuck him. The slam of Gil’s cock practically picks him up off the floor with each thrust, and his hands scrabble for purchase to keep from tipping forward. His cunt squeezes, makes a wet juicy sound every time Gil plunges into him, and the steel plug nestled inside his ass shifts whenever Gil pulls back far enough.

He groans, wishing once again that he had something in his mouth, his lips falling slack as Gil’s scent starts to overwhelm his own. Everything about Gil feels huge right now, the swelling of his cock and the breadth of his hands as they wander along Malcolm’s body. Eventually those hands settle to anchor at Malcolm’s hip and on his back, palm flattened over his scapula, making Malcolm hold himself to meet the pressure. Eventually his arms begin to shake, muscles fatiguing, and he’d nearly forgotten that Gil had said they were only going to start like this when after a punishing series of thrusts Gil pulls out to leave him empty and aching.

When he doesn’t immediately mount him again, Malcolm twists around, wrists bracing on the back of the couch to keep from crumpling to the floor, weak-legged and useless. He stares at the heavy hang of Gil’s dick shining with his heatslick, and when his gaze lifts to meet Gil’s he sees that cocky calm is gone, the heat-craze trying to distort Gil’s mouth into a teeth-baring snarl as he swipes a hand over his goatee.

“Get your legs up,” Gil says, not actually giving any time to comply before he just grabs hold of Malcolm’s thigh and slots back into place.

Barely perched on the edge of the couch, Malcolm has to fling his arms around Gil’s neck to avoid crashing to the floor. He clings to Gil, as thrilled by the chance to rub his face against all that bare skin and welcome an alpha’s scent marked straight on him as he is to be lifted up and dropped right back down onto Gil’s cock. It’s not a smooth slide back in this time, but it feels fucking amazing—Gil’s knot already thickening, swelling larger but nowhere near as big as it’s going to get before they’re tied.

Malcolm hooks his ankles behind Gil, his own dick leaking and wet between their bellies as Gil lets gravity do half the work. He doesn’t even miss the wild relentless plunge of Gil fucking into him, not when Gil is cradling him in his arms and biting at his lips with ravenous kisses.

He sucks briefly on Gil’s tongue, moans and cracks his jaw wide to let Gil lick into his mouth. Malcolm shivers, rapturous, as every hole of his is filled and used and Gil’s powerful arms wrap tight around him. He can feel the swell of Gil’s knot now, blood-thickened and tucked in him like a key slotted into a lock. Like his body has been _made_ for Gil’s knot and Gil’s knot alone.

When Gil’s mouth breaks away from his, sucking in air as a hard throb signals the first hot gush of come, Malcolm grins heatwild and hungry. He noses under Gil’s jaw to lick and suck and take Gil’s scent as he grinds his hips fitfully. The wet head of his dick is a sharp searing pleasure as he clenches down tighter around Gil’s knot, his own orgasm triggered and milking each subsequent wave of come as it gushes into him. It starts to drip out of him, too much to contain, and Malcolm can taste it in the air.

He goes boneless as the last pitiful dribbles of his own come leak out between them and lazily mouths kisses at Gil’s throat as Gil maneuvers around the couch and drops into the cushions with a groan. Malcolm’s knees sprawl wide, little tremors still rippling through him, seizing tight to Gil’s knot so they’re tied together properly.

Draping himself against Gil’s chest, Malcolm sighs contentedly, limbs buzzing with true euphoria and relief for the first time since he’d started his heat. A mix of come and heatslick trickles out of him, and he doesn’t fight the loss, happy to let it slide onto Gil’s thighs and on the couch beneath them. If the whole apartment could smell like this, Malcolm wouldn’t mind at all.

He’d never been the type of omega to want to start nesting the minute he took a knot, but he’d also never been tied during a heat, let alone to an alpha like Gil...someone he honestly cared for. The idea of having something of Gil be permanently in his space is a comforting thought. Maybe he’d ask about it later, after—

“How long until you can go again?” he asks, nuzzling at Gil’s neck and lipping at his pulse point. “Forty-five minutes? An hour? Either would definitely be enough time for the sheets in the wash to dry so we can do this in a real bed….”

“Again? Malcolm, this was supposed to get you through. I can’t stay here all night rutting you, I’ve got work in the morning. You remember I called you about a case.”

“I’m at _peak_ breeding age, Gil. One and done isn’t going to do it. And besides,” Malcolm murmurs, snuggling a little closer, “if you fuck me hard enough tonight to break my heat, I’ll be able to consult by the time you’ve had your coffee.”

“You really think I’m going to stay here all night and then bring you into the precinct smelling like this?”

“I’ll shower,” Malcolm promises, even though he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t care if the entire NYPD or even his former bosses at the FBI get a good whiff of Gil all over him.

“I’m not taking you anywhere; you know the rules. You’ll wait twenty four hours after your heat fever recedes just like everyone else. I can’t play favorites, especially not in this situation. Hell, this was supposed to be a quick stop.”

“You really aren’t going to stay, even after we….”

“I’ll come back. First thing tomorrow, you’ll be alright until then,” Gil promises. He smooths a hand down Malcolm’s spine. “Once we can move, I want you to eat something and try to get some sleep.”

“I’ll try.”

Gil holds him close and presses a kiss high on his cheek, following it with the drag of his jaw to spread his scent there. He inhales deeply, and Malcolm rocks his hips lightly in response to luxuriate in the way they fit together so perfectly in this moment.

“Don’t you dare shower though. I want to come back and find you still smelling like this,” Gil says, taking another deep breath in. The _smelling like me_ unspoken but shivering between them regardless. “Plus, it’ll help you stay—”

“Sane?” Malcolm interjects wryly.

Gil’s hand slides up to cup the nape of his neck, fingers rubbing lightly over the mark raised on Malcolm’s skin. “Clear headed.”

“It’s a deal,” Malcolm concedes, gaze going heavy at the touch. Another good hard fuck to just break his heat would be amazing, but having Gil want to come back tomorrow and mount him all over again…. To want to claim him when he’s ripened with the scent of their rutting…. Maybe he could use the time to figure out a way to convince Gil to bite him. He buries a smile against the column of Gil’s neck and starts considering his options. “I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Read more of my [Prodigal Son fics](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=Prodigal+Son+%28TV+2019%29&user_id=ponderosa121), or talk to me about this twink getting wrecked on Twitter [@ponderosa121](https://twitter.com/ponderosa121) or on Discord in [Prodigal Son Trash](https://discord.gg/fQaRgBD).


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